


Something Old, Something New

by amourlamonde16



Category: Marvel
Genre: Angst, CUTEST FUCKING SHIT, Changed age gap, M/M, Nonsense, Peter is pure, Romance, Slow Burn, Spideypool - Freeform, Super Dads, Superfamily, Sweetness, age gap, begins in childhood, cute nonsense, cuteness, lots of self hate on Wade's part, pure goodness, spiderman and deadpool
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-12 21:10:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10499538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amourlamonde16/pseuds/amourlamonde16
Summary: "Something old, something new,Something borrowed, something blue..."AU Where Wade and Peter meet years before the cancer and mutant spider bite. They create an impact that changes their lives forever and it's funny what fate loves to do with the essences people leave on each other's hearts.





	1. ONE

Chapter One: The First Fan

  
Water splashed as Wade's red sneaker hit the puddle beneath his foot. He cursed as the wetness soaked into the fabric of his shoe, but snorted to himself and kept walking.

 _That's the closest those will ever get to a washing anyway_.

The voice in his head mused. Wade quipped back, "Shoes don't need washing. That's a myth, like the trolls that steal your socks and global warming." Despite his light tone and the smirk that lifted his lips Wade was in no mood for jokes.

 _That's a first_.

He'd gotten detention again for sticking it to the principal's son, Dick. Put simply, his name was a perfect fit. The kid was an asshole who liked to pick on the younger grades just for kicks. Girls, boys, of all different racial and economic backgrounds; he'd give it to the guy that, in the very least, he didn't discriminate.

The problem wasn't the detention though... Wade could sit in the corner of Principal Birches' Office and quip at the old snob all day.

_Hard to run out of material when the guy's a walking joke book, full of deprecating puns and mean anecdotes._

The issue was that this time, they'd called home.

_Daddy's not going to be happy._

"He's not my Dad." Wade muttered, turning down an alley. He wanted to be alone for a while before going back to, as he liked to call it, "Le trou de l'enfer", or "The hell hole".

_Everything sounds fancier in French._

As he was climbing up the ladder to get to the top of the Mexican restaurant that let him eat and/or hangout up on the rooftop, he heard a familiar voice shout, "Hey fucker! You got me in trouble!"

Wade didn't stop for a moment, only rolled his eyes and dropped down. "As I recall you came after me after I made a hilarious joke about how small your dick is! But you just couldn't help yourself huh? That little masochist inside you just keeps crawling back, begging for more!" He turned around with a smirk and pushed the hair out of his eyes.

Dick's expression was nasty, like he wanted to rip Wade a new one. Or rip him apart...

 _More likely the later_.  _Doesn't he know there's a line for that?_

"Listen Dick, I know you've got this huge gay crush on me, I mean I totally get it, I'm pretty fucking fantastic, but you've gotta stop! You're just... Not my type." He shrugged a little and flashed one of his famous "bad boy" smiles. Dick did not look amused. 

_In his defense, people rarely are when their the butt of our jokes._

With that Dick threw a punch and Wade just barely dodged, laughing as he did. "Man you're angry! You would think I'd pissed you off or something!" Wade threw a punch back, hitting Dick square in the jaw with a solid, strong fisted, punch.

The sound his punch made against Dick's jaw bone made Wade's stomach explode with satisfaction. Dick stumbled backwards, glaring. "Big mistake." The idiot (Dick) growled.

 _As if_. 

"I've made a lot of mistakes in my short time here in this reality, but punching your stupid ass face was not one of them." He took a stance with both fists up. "Come at me mother fucker. Make my day."

With a death glare Dick leapt at Wade, and after the first few hits he lost track of time. With all the punching and the occasional kick or slam against concrete, he felt time slip away. After the second time he had his head hit against concrete, a terrible ringing filling his ears, he started to let himself lose. He felt the weakness come, not because he was actually losing to this whimpy fisted jackass, but because he was just so tired of- Well- everything... He felt his humor fade.

_Great time for that depression to kick in._

Through the haze, as his nose bled and Dick cackled with each punch, a shrill cry broke through his the fog. Suddenly Dick was propelled off of Wade. And then came the screaming. The horrid high pitch screaming that called a nearby pair of police officers to the alley way. As they drug Dick to the police car, Wade pried open his crusted eyes and his distorted gaze connected to these deep brown irises of a kid, no more than 11. A cute kid for sure, but a kid nonetheless.

Feeling like death, he grabbed the kid by the neck and whispered to him, "Listen fruitcake... If I die, tell my foster dad he'll see my perfect ass in hell." And then it all went black.

_Those should be the words written on your gravestone._

__________

When Wade awoke, it was to the sound of beeping machines and what Wade's hazy, sarcastic mind could only decipher as either the smell of a germaphobes apartment or a hospital. After painfully straining his mind to connect events, and opening his eyes, he decided that it was a hospital. He had an IV attached to his arm and several bandages. He looked around and tried to sit up though he grunted in pain and laughed.

_Thanks for dragging me along._

"You're welcome." Wade retorted, clutching his ribs. 

The door cracked open and against he met deep brown eyes, his face as serious as his private school uniform, maroon and white... Some upper east side bullshit. Those eyes though, now that he got a really good look at him, his stare was almost unsettling.

"You saved me."

"I HAD to because you're a bitch ass who was letting that guy beat you up!"

The instantaneous transformation from sweet, serious little private school kid to enraged child (who knew more curse words than he probably should) startled Wade. His eyes widened, and after a split second of silent staring, he burst out into a fit of laughing coughs.

 _He's got spunk_.

"Shit kid! You're a riot!" He smiled wide. "What's your name hero?"

His cheeks flushed when Wade called him a hero, brown eyes sweetly warm... like melted chocolate. "Peter Stark." He said softly.

Wade gave him a warm lopsided grin, blue eyes glimmering with mischief, like always. "Wade Wilson."

They shared banter as Peter waited for his parents to pick him up. They talked about MJ, or Mary Jane, the girl Peter was hopelessly in love with (or so he said; he is only 11). They talked about Wade's foster parents and his grades. He ended up promising Peter to keep his grades up, since it was his senior year. Wade gave him some advice for Mary Jane, and told Peter to keep being a hero. It suited him well.

"Why did you save me?" Wade asked asked, playing nervously with the uncomfortable hospital blanket. "I could've deserved the beating I was getting." He glanced over. 

Peter thought for a long moment on this, and finally responded. "I didn't care if you deserved it." His intense gaze met Wade's, whose eyes fell back to the bed instantly. "I thought it was the right thing to do."

_Jesus... Who raised this angelic child. My eyes._

"Thank you." Wade said shyly. 

"Your welcome." Peter responded, smiling a little up at Wade. 

After an hour or so, Anthony Stark of Stark Interprises, and his husband Steve Stark, came to pick up their son. Wade felt awfully humbled by them as they opened the door, strong and accomplished individuals, and he apologized for getting their son involved. Steve seemed to despise his "colorful" language, but was polite and gracious nonetheless. Tony said little but was mostly concerned about their sons' wellbeing, which was entirely understandable.

After a moment of somewhat awkward silence after they had arrived, Wade assured them that Peter had saved him. His cheeks and neck burned as he spoke, talking about what a good kid he was, and to make sure he doesn't end up like him, sitting in a hospital bed cause he "got his ass beat". Tony and Steve looked at each other and smiled at Wade in a soft way, Tony's lips twisting into a smirk with genuine love and pride behind his eyes, for Peter and Peter alone, and Steve's emotions spilled forward with the proud, white toothed grin he flashed. They assured him he wouldn't end up in that kind of predicament, as long as they had a say in it.

 _Impressing the parent's is always important_.

Before they left Tony patted his upright knee in comfort and Steve gave his shoulder a quick squeeze, and finally Peter nodded to him, serious but caring. And that was enough. He felt so warmed and touched by those small gestures of genuine kindness that when his foster parents showed up, not even their back handed words could empty his full heart.

A few weeks later, as he walked to halls of his devastatingly underfunded high school, he felt that something had fundamentally changed within him. As strange as it was to admit, that scrawny little kid with mesmerizing brown eyes was his hero. He wanted to be as noble and brave as the 11 year-old known as Peter Benjamin Stark.

_Poor Petey doesn't know what he's gotten himself into._

 


	2. TWO

Chapter Two:

Peter wasn't really sure where all that bravery and sass had come from, when he was totally honest with himself. He would like to think that he had it in him all along, but he wasn't sure if that was actually the case.

The whole reason he ended up in the "bad" part of town, was to prove to himself that he wasn't a pansy like that kid James had said. But when he had first witnessed the fight, he froze in his tracks, his heart nearly jumping out of his throat. He watched a punch here and there turn into an all out brawl, and he shook in his sneakers.

And then the blonde kid went slack beneath the other one, and fear turned into all out panic. Peter saw a police car with a rolled down window not far away, and in a moment of intense, uncharacteristic courage, he ran, yelling all the while, and collided directly with the older boy on top of the blonde guy. Thankfully he didn't hit the pavement, landing entirely on the person he'd just tackled. And then he let out the loudest, most annoying shriek of his life.

And then the police came running. They grabbed the assailant, and Peter quickly moved over to the older guy he'd just saved. He was so much bigger up close, his face puffy and his nose bleeding. But even with how disgusting he looked, Peter didn't back away. He'd just gotten beat up after all, he was sure he didn't look like that by choice.

After a moment, he slowly opened his eyes and their gazes colliding. After a few seconds of silence, the guy reached up weakly and put his hand on Peter's neck, mumbling weakly, with the hint of a smirk underneath all the pain,

"Listen fruitcake... If I die, tell my foster dad he'll see my perfect ass in hell."

And then he passed out.

Peter was left confused, surprised, and utterly amused. He started laughing as an ambulance was called, which was horribly awkward to explain to the kind police officers, and rode with the police officers to the hospital (as Peter had demanded to see the guy he had saved and make sure he would be okay).

As he sat mostly still in the pristine waiting room, his whole body bubbled with awesome realization.

I just saved someone's life.

He grinned ear to ear.

When Peter got bit by the mutant spider, he thought back on that day for a long hour. It had been years since he had saved Wade Wilson, so it was strange to Peter that he would "out of the blue" think about it, until he remembered what Wade had said about him being a hero... How it, "suited" him.

Peter was never particularly religious, or even spiritual for that matter, but maybe he'd been bitten for a reason. Maybe he was meant to do good with whatever variety freakish powers he'd gotten. And then he found out he could climb on walls... His senses were heightened beyond belief, and then the web shooting. When he first accidentally shot out his webs, the first thing that came out of his mouth was, "Well, at least I doesn't shoot it out my ass..."

In secret he tinkered with fabrics and slipped different tools from his father's workshop, reading endlessly about theories of bullet resistant fabrics and lightweight materials for gliding (he'd accidentally stuck himself to the ceiling only to realize his webbing was quite durable).

After months of research and late nights, and a few unplanned vigilante trips with only a mask and a red hoodie, his first suit was created. He zipped through the streets, from building to building, the grin growing and hurting his cheeks as he yelped out with joy at the freedom he felt. He tested out the mechanics, feeling where the fabric needed pinching and adjusting... And then he heard a shriek. A woman was getting chased down an alleyway, her dress torn and one of her heels broken. The man's leer at her made his skin crawl. As he grabbed her by the hair Peter unceremoniously dropped down and glared at the attacker.

"Who the fuck are you?" He growled, pulling back his jacket to reveal a handgun tucked into he waistband of his jeans.

Peter glared, saying with a witty tone, "Oh buddy. You picked the wrong day to be bad."

After he left the guy wrapped up in webbing, squirming, the girl tired and still a bit freightened, but willing to make a statement against him, Peter felt a sense of fulfillment like nothing he could've hoped for.

Overnight he became a hero. He was the talk of New York, and suddenly everything changed. Besides his grades, he devoted all his time to being the crusader of justice the city had named him... The masked hero Spider-Man. Which suited him plenty.

A few years went by and somehow he'd successfully kept his identity from his super parents while keeping up a normal life, fighting crime on his "days off". It became almost a habit for him, but never stopped being a duty... A privilege even.

A month after he'd moved out of his house and started his new job as a paid intern at The Daily Bugle he started hearing rumors about a strange masked avenger (not an Avenger, thankfully) who was out for blood. Bad guy blood, sure, but he was still dropping bodies left and right. Peter followed a few leads, ultimately unsuccessful ones, and eventually gave up trying to find him. There were other heroes in New York, and he had other fish to fry. Until however... He accidentally dropped in on this red suited anti-hero about to fillet some crime boss Peter had been keeping an eye on for a few weeks.

For a moment there was an awkward silence, and then the man at the anti-hero's mercy started begging Spider-Man for help!

"Aren't you a hero of the people?!" He wailed, struggling under the bigger man's weight. "He's about to skin me alive!"

The guy in the red suit, after a period of silence suddenly jumped up, pulling a gun out and shooting that guy right in the head, looking like he was smiling under his mask.

What the holy mother of fuck.

"Oh man! My hero shows up out of the blue! What an honor!" His voice chipper and almost childish.

"You just killed that guy!" Peter yelled, ignoring the clearly delusional statement.

The man turned his head towards the bloody corpse. "Well duh. You're Spider-Man, I'm sure you've seen his track record." He holstered his gun. "Battery, assault, rape charges, fraud, drug distribution... Shall I go on?" He made a wide gesture with his hand, and while Peter was listening, he still couldn't believe what was before his eyes.

"Yeah. He was a bad guy, but we don't get to decide who lives or dies." Peter felt a rage boil up inside him. "I get what you're trying to do, but your actions are all wrong. You're no better than them!"

The man went silent, which Peter had a feeling wasn't very common for this guy. It only took a second for him to retort, "Not every criminal you put on the steps of the NYPD gets to know the thrills of sludge in the cafeteria prison." His tone was light, but his words held weight. He almost sounded... Hurt? "You think lard ass over here would've spent a day in jail? Hey- at least my solutions' permanent. Poof! Gone! I'm you're mother fucking Fairy Godmother, Baby Boy! I make sure all the big baddies who keep you from going to the ball disappear before midnight~"

"You're missing the point!" Peter growled back. "That's not what being a hero is! We don't get to chose their fate, we only protect those who need protecting."

The guy tilted his head in a maniacal way, seeming to beam under that mask, "You think I'm a hero?!"

Peter scratched the back of his head through the suit. "I don't even know... You're a smart ass that's for sure."

Sirens started wailing down the street, no doubt someone had heard the gunshot and called the police. Peter whipped his head towards the noise, knowing what would happen if someone saw him near a dead body.

His heart dropped into his stomach.

"Uh oh! Look's like your boys are coming... Better take off before they catch you with our little friend here."

When Peter turned his head back around, the man was gone. Something felt so oddly familiar about the interaction, though he didn't have much time to think on it as he hurriedly made quick work of leaving the apartment... Once he was far enough away, he found himself a nice dark corner and peeled the mask off, his hair falling out easily, shaggy and needing a cut. He licked his dry lips and pushed his hair out of his face, still up in the corner. "Who was that?" But right as he started to think more on the masked stranger, he heard a yell for help and quickly pulled his mask back on. He had more important things to deal with for a moment, and he had a feeling he and whomever that was were going to meet again real soon...


End file.
